Too Soon For You
by RawMateriel
Summary: When the fighting is over, sixteen year old Luna Lovegood finds herself at a loss. Unwilling to interrupt her friends tied up in their personal grief, she dazedly returns home in the hopes of finding her Father. As she curls up alone on the floor in the runes of their house she awaits the brighter future she fought for. One Shot, probably.


When what people were optimistically describing as the 'Final Battle' at Hogwarts had ended, Luna Lovegood sat with the crowds of injured and rubble stained survivors. She cast her eyes over to the fallen. The less lucky. She took a deep breath and pushed her thoughts elsewhere. A coping mechanism she had developed or maybe always had, but which always reminded her of her Mother. Perhaps because her Mother was dead and this was a way to deal with that. She looked for something to remark upon. Something which was untouched by all this and special because of it. Her eyes drifted upward and she saw the roof.

"Isn't this vaulted ceiling grand?" She whispered aloud to no one in particular, and it was. Now that the astounding enchantment which usually covered the roof of the great hall with a replica of the sky outside had failed; the architecture was revealed. It was stunning. Her whisper was lost in the hub bub as she predicted it would be. She tried again not to think about death, searching more frantically now for a doorway to a new thought.

"My mind is so clouded, this environment is the perfect habitat for rousing Wrackspurts. There are probably thousands zooming around..." She coughed, the air was filled with disintegrated mortar and smoke, her blonde hair was caked with it. A thought slipped unbidden into her mind. Coaxing her to darker fixations. Dragging her to thoughts of regret. Of near misses, of near saves. These thoughts she knew would haunt her always. The miscast shield charm that failed a now fallen comrade. She kept coughing, knowing really she was on the edge of tears. She did not wish to succumb. She would not mourn for her loved ones. Not before definite news had reached her. She thought of her beloved father and nearly keened but she forced her mouth into a small smile. She would only think of him in joyous terms.

She thought of how he would hate to die. How he would hate to leave her alone in the world when she was only sixteen. She thought of how he might have been afraid in his last moments. She hadn't been there for him. He might of called out for her and she had not answered. The absurd urge to call out for him struck her, but she knew wherever he was, he had not yet appeared at Hogwarts. If she called for him she wouldn't be able to bare the silence that would be the response. She had called for her Mother countless times in this way. Pointlessly.

Luna began to bat absentmindedly at the air.

"Wrackspurts, tricky little things." She glanced upward again and stood. She carefully brushed her tears from her cheeks. "Too soon for you." she told them.

Now standing she made a choice. She was going home. She would await her Dad there. The last time she had seen him had been before she had left for Hogwarts. During her stay at Shell Cottage, Bill Weasley has told her that the official version of events was that her Father had been taken to Azakaban for harbouring Harry. She was proud of him. She was terrified. Luna made her exit from the great hall quickly, she let her eyes focus on the Gothic ceiling above her. Humming to clear her ears of the lamentations surrounding her. She saw George Weasley and his family curled around his twin brother, Fred was unmistakably dead. She almost stopped but she could not let herself. Fred Weasley had saved her life earlier that day. He had cast a shield charm and then turned to her to make a joke she had not heard. She wondered if enough time would ever pass for her to be able to tell George this and have him take some kind of satisfaction from it. It was no comfort to her. As soon as she was out of sight of the flaming heads of their family she began to retch. She was shocked that she didn't cough up dust. Nothing came from her stomach but she tasted bile.

She dusted herself off a little foolishly and continued her journey until she found a fireplace. She pulled the new wand Mr. Ollivander had made for her from behind her ear and pointed it into the grate;

"Incendio." she cast the spell easily, thankful for her friends gift. She looked around the base of the fire and above along the high mantel but found no floo powder. Hoping that whatever protective enchantments which had kept the staff stash away from students had failed, perhaps due to the caster's deaths she called "Accio floo powder" out into the empty corridor.

A few moments later she was met with a face full of powder. She rolled her eyes and spat some into her hand before climbing into the fireplace and throwing it at her feet. The floo network had been reopened. The revolution had obviously begun moving along promptly or the Deatheaters had opened up the floo network during the siege to make easier their escape. She almost missed her home grate, barely recognizing the house as she stepped out of the fireplace. Hermione had warned her that the damage to their house had been expansive and had apologized but still Luna stared with shock at the place where the East wall of her family home once stood. She picked up some old copies of the Quibbler which were clearly not written in her Father's usual spirit of bravery but rather had been perverted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's cruel regime. She stared at the cover which bad mouthed her friend, Harry Potter, for only a moment before casting the copies behind her into the hearth to keep the flames alight.

She didn't suppose the Statute for the Restriction of Under Age Wizardry meant much right at this moment so she pointed her wand and cast a spell to keep the wind out. The room was full of leaves from outdoors and stank of old damp and new rain. She scourgified a quilt which she had found blown into a corner covered in debris and wrapped it around her shoulders. She set herself down in front of the fire to wait, utterly alone. There, she fell asleep.


End file.
